


Wake Me

by LegolasLovely



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Smut, just putting it to be safe, this is not a huge thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22200268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegolasLovely/pseuds/LegolasLovely
Summary: Fíli is caught masturbating by his wife who he thought was sleeping.
Relationships: Fíli (Tolkien)/Reader, Fíli (Tolkien)/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 109





	Wake Me

Fili’s boots and eyelids were especially heavy tonight as he trudged through the dark corridors. This was the fifth night in a row he had made this walk from the throne room to his chambers in the dark, wee hours of the morning. The torches lining the walls had been extinguished long ago, he saw no smoke hovering about the ceiling and a cool chill was allowed to race around his icy nose and ears. 

_Left, right. Left right. Halfway there,_ he thought, trying to push away the frustration of another day of long meetings. He inhaled deeply and the cold air that rushed into his lungs made him shiver. Then he smiled to himself, a small twitch at the corner of his lips, as he thought about the warmth that would greet him when he entered his chambers.

He rolled his bottom lip in his mouth as he allowed little thoughts of her to cloud his mind. What was she doing? Was she just drifting off to sleep or was she deep in a world of dreams? He closed his eyes and walked blindly through the corridors he knew so well, imagining how he was minutes away from sliding into a bed that had been warmed by her body. Was she wearing the soft nightgown that would catch on his calloused fingertips as he wrapped his arms around her? Or was his thick tunic folded around her to keep her warm while he himself wasn’t there to do the job?

His eyes snapped open. Maybe he’d crawl into bed beside her and find her wearing nothing at all. Bare chest, bare belly, and bare legs, waiting for him to wrap himself around her and burn her skin with his desire that was now pulsing through him at the mere thought of her.

His mind was hazy and he almost passed the door to his chambers. He back-stepped, opened the door as quietly as he could, wincing at the loud click of the lock, and slid inside. She was sleeping. _As she should be,_ he thought. 

He toed through the room toward a solitary candle that was left burning by his side of the bed. Just under it lay a note.

_Wake me when you return, (it read)._

His eyes were glued to her as he undressed. None of his questions were answered. She was buried in blankets and furs and only her wild, undone hair, closed eyes and pink nose were visible. He extinguished the candle, but his curiosity burned and he knew the only way to know what state she had gone to bed in was to climb in and find out for himself. But he wasn’t ready to do that.

The sight of her had sent him throbbing against the laces of his trousers. He shuffled, cursing himself for even bringing up these thoughts this late at night. The uncomfortable and now agonizing need was his own fault. But could he really be blamed? This week of unending meetings had left him without relief or release and he craved his One now more than ever. And he was sure she felt the same way. 

He palmed himself for some sort of friction but it only made the throbbing worse. He could wake her up. She had written the note. Maybe she had something important to tell him, maybe a letter had come or she had urgent news. He could wake her and they’d discuss whatever it was and since they’d both be awake anyway… _No. Look at her, she’s sound asleep,_ he thought.

He sighed and turned from her. He was tired. It was late. He had more meetings at dawn. He should ignore this and go to sleep, it will go away. Then there was a rustling from the bed and hope bloomed in his gut. She’d rolled over, releasing one shoulder from its cocoon of furs. His question was answered. She was wearing his tunic.

He bolted to the wash room, leaning one hand on the empty tub and feeling the soft wood bend under his grip. The laces of his trousers fought him until he finally snapped them with a curse. His cold fingers against the scalding skin left him hissing, but it felt so _good._ He wished with everything in him that it was her fingers around him, her thumb teasing over his head and spreading the thick precome down his aching length. He was hard for her. He wanted her.

He felt his hair brush against his shoulders as he threw his head back. A groan escaped through a clenched jaw and a bit lip, though he tried his best to stay quiet. He screwed his eyes shut and watched the flashes of light morph into her face. She looked up at him and smiled as her lips stretched around him.

Then his heart leapt. He tried to turn, to see the owner of the arms that had wrapped around him, but he wasn’t allowed.

“Shh,” she whispered, breath fanning over his neck. “It’s only me.”

He let go of his erection, feeling the adrenaline pulse through his limbs. “I-I’m sorry,” he said. She was his faithful partner and here he was, pleasuring himself in secret like a dwarfling- unable to wait, unable to control himself. “I didn’t- you were not meant to see me like this, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said. Her voice swam over him and gathered where he needed her most. Her round lips danced over his neck as her hand met his and brought it back to his member. “And don’t stop,” she said.

Her fingertips were feathers on his arm, making the blond hairs stand on end. “Keep going,” she said, dragging his long, braided waves over his shoulders to free his skin for more steaming kisses.

In seconds, he was overwhelmed by the sensation of her and powerless to her commands. His entire back was burning from her heat and little electric currents raced through him from his neck straight down to his cock which was growing ever heavier in his hand. He leaned back into her, melting into her perfect touch and groaned her name.

“I told you to wake me,” she said. He could hear the smile in her voice.

“You were sleeping so soundly.”

“I can never sleep soundly without you.”

He would have sent her a smirk. He would have pinned her down on their bed or against the wall of the washroom, but he was completely at her mercy. All he could do was continue to pump himself, as if she would disappear if he stopped.

His hips began to stutter, to thrust uncontrollably into the tight circle of fingers. Waves of black nothingness surrounded him, and only her lips and hands brought bolts of blinding light. He thought his chest would rip open or collapse or simply detonate, but then she stopped him. She reached forward and stilled his hand, kissing his cheek and whispering to him.

“I’m not done yet.”

She circled around him. It took great concentration for him to force his eyes open and when he saw her grinning, he cursed her.

“I’m going to-”

“No you’re not,” she said, placing her hands wide over his chest. “Breathe.” His pecs rose and filled her palms and when he glared at her again, she tilted his chin toward their bedchamber. “Sit on the bed,” she said.

He did as he was told, but she didn’t come to him. Instead, she walked to the small table by the wall and stood with her back to him. 

“What are you doing?”

He heard the scratch of a flint and the tiny roar of a single flame. Her face glowed in an orange light as she looked at him over her shoulder. “Lighting a candle. I thought you’d want to see.”

“What do I get to see?” he asked, stretching out a hand and beckoning her to him.

She stood between his knees and ran a finger over one of his dimples- that glorious little concave of skin beneath his beard and next to his smirk. “A prince gets whatever he wants. He only has to ask.” The dimple vanished.

“Then I ask you to take off this tunic you stole.”

A brilliant smile flashed his way. She took the bottom hem in her hands and lifted the tunic over her head and dropped it on the floor. His hands found her hips and slid up over her belly and her sides until he could cup her breasts in his hands. She allowed a single kiss to the center of her chest before she lifted his chin.

“I know you love it when I wear your tunics,” she said. 

“I also love it when you take them off.”

He felt her eyes like torches on him as she fell to her knees. Small, warm hands burned through his trousers and made his muscles jump as they moved from his knees to his hips. Then she stopped. She rested her cheek on his leg and looked up at him with wide, liquid eyes and he felt his chest swell. 

“Do I get to ask for things as well?” she asked.

“Anything.”

She rose and framed his jaw with her hands. “Kiss me, please, my love.”

He was helpless but to obey. He lifted her into his lap and swallowed her surprised little noise, gluing and melting and touching and attaching. When was the last time he’d kissed her? When had he last taken her pink, pillowed lips between his own and licked into her delicious, warm mouth? It had been days. And now he wanted to kiss her for days.

She pulled away, her breath heavy and catching and his pride bloomed at her flushed state and her shy smile. “I wasn’t done with you,” she said. 

He nodded. Oh, how he wanted to cage her beneath him and take her right then and there but this was her night. He’d let her do anything she wanted to him. So he let her sink back to the floor. And he let her slowly peel his trousers from his legs until she threw them away. He let her _torture_ him with long kisses over his belly and hips until she finally took him into her mouth.

A short time ago, when he was alone in the washroom, all he wanted was his immediate release. He wanted it done and over with so he could go to sleep and feel less agitated the next day.

Now, he wanted this to last forever. He could watch her _forever._ Of course, she knew every trick to drive him wild- every sensitive spot, every turn on, she knew exactly how to swirl her tongue to make his toes curl. Of course every single moment felt even more thrilling than the last, but the thing that he loved the most was how she looked when she was pleasuring him this way. 

He often dreamed about how she smiles at him when she rips a moan from his throat. It’s a confident, sexy little thing, a lift of the corner of her lips as they’re wrapped and stretched around him. He wanted to see it now. His fingers pulled her thick hair away from her face, gently carding through the locks, and he watched her eyes roll back at the feeling. There’s that smile. It sent a wave of pleasure through him that sat at the base of his spine, waiting for the go ahead to rocket forward and finish him.

She knew exactly what she was doing to him. She knew he was dead set on keeping his eyes open to watch her every move, but his own eyelids were fighting him. The waves of pleasure were getting too strong for him to keep his composure. His chest shook and she knew as well as he did he wasn’t going to last much longer.

She took him until her cool nose tangled in his blond curls and sucked hard. That was it for him. He came in her mouth with a shout, barely able to keep still enough to watch her take everything he had to offer. He slowly came down from his high, feeling like an outsider looking in as he felt her climb into his lap again. She urged him to lay down and kissed him endlessly, warm little pecks sending the last of the electric shocks away and replacing them with warmth and comfort and _her._

“Go to sleep, my love,” she whispered, tucking herself into his side.

“No,” he grumbled.

“Hm?”

“No.” He rolled over her and quickly took dominant control over the kiss he’d planted on her lips. “It’s your turn.”


End file.
